June 2017 3/4

Greetings! I am Mungleton, a  man of 11 years standing, 3 years sitting and 6 months crouching over a small bucket.

Gosh. It really is a time of confusion, and not just hormonally. Met Bud at 0700 but then he left the county to go and be taught how to do his job in a place called 'Braintree' which sounds fake to me.

So Monday, being a day off, was an opportunity to do not-very-much, one of my talents. I did have an appointment with Sham, so Jof walked me round there and we both cooked merrily in the blazing sunshine. Did I mention it hit 28 degrees again? Or was it 30.

Sham and I played our various games for 2 hours and then Jof and I boiled our merry way home again. Once upon a decade, I had an eye test having failed to read a 'No Smoking' sign from across the room. I passed but promised to return in a few years and today was it, if I was going to need glasses, best to arrive at senior school already wearing them. I passed again: I'm a little short-sighted but it doesn't stop me. I promised to return again in a couple of years.

Then my Scoutmaster asked us if we have any wood for outside firelighting of the Scout variety. As we are in charge of wood, we had half a garage full, all chopped up and packed into big boxes for easy loading. But because Jof has the spinal column of an 80 year-old (and won't give it back) and Scoutman is on crutches, it was up to us kids to move it and, well, they should have been better prepared.

In Scouts we learned tent-raising the old-fashioned way, burnt some marshmallows and had a water fight, definitely the best thing to do in this weather. Then we wasted 20 minutes trying to find Flynn who had already gone home on his own.

Tuesday started and finished without Bud who was miles away. And it was even hotter, I tried telling the headmaster that the reason I turned up naked to school was that our washing line caught on fire and all my uniform was lost, but he didn't believe me. He asked if the dog had eaten my homework as well. We don't even have a dog.

But the big change was Year 6 Bikeability. All week we're out there in the real world learning how to avoid being run over. But there's a 2 strikes and you're out policy and a couple of us have had the first warning.

We have all been told to bring in a bottle and drink lots of water, as the playground is slightly warmer than the surface of the sun. But I didn't heed the warnings and got sunstroke-related vomiting disorder and had to have supper twice.

On Wednesday we cycled again, and learned all about pulling out and looking past car wing mirrors and cycling far away from parked cars so you don't get clonked if they open their doors without looking. And we had a rehearsal for the school play and I finished my African artwork which is a giant lions' head. In D&T (design and technology, not delirium tremens, although one can lead to the other), we did cuboids and had to build tall towers. Child B and C on my team used our tower as a punchbag so of course we came last. And Bud came home and all of a sudden it was go-to-bed-on-time and stuff all over again.

Thursday was overcast. This did not stop it being hot, and even the 12 minutes of thunderstorm we were promised boiled off into space before it could strike, and all we got was 5 minutes of hail that made all our bike brakes squeak.

In cycling, Child C dabbed while riding ie hands-free operation so he got shouted at lots. It's always the usual suspects, just that none of them are called Keyser Soze. In Design and Tech, I did a fact-file on the Empire State building and can tell you that it gets struck by lightning twice a month. And in a rare streak of luck, I got a credit point for being quiet, putting me back on 20 and in the running for swimming. After all that cycling, it was practically a triathlon. No wonder I needed to sit down and have chocolate ice cream.

On Friday we had our last CycleMania lesson, or at least those of us who weren't banned did. Child A was barred for calling the teachers stupid idiots and he had to write a letter of apology, even if he didn't mean it.

We cycled off in a long conga line all in our Hi-Vis jackets and went up and down roads with signalling and looking-behind aplenty. And in Rounders I spilled the ball when doing a diving catch and everyone was mean, apart from the nice girl who's never mean. She has 31 Goody Points, whereas Child A is down to 11. And thus the differences begin. Later I was barely on my third hour Skyping with the Minecrew and Bud said get off the computer, it's my turn. So I said "I'm Hungweeeeeeee" in a whiny voice which meant he had to cook supper so I got right back on the SkypeCraft with Sydney and the rest of the gang. And they say kids are stupid.

Anyway, Saturday started well with more Minecraftery and scrambled eggs, think that's why the keyboard's sticky. Sydney turned up for acting, and the metal pin has been removed from her broken arm, so at least she doesn't set off the detectors at the airport any more.

We all went through the script of 'One man, 2 Guv'nors' a load more times and we have another new starter, a 13 year-old called Mary. Her boyfriend's name is Joseph. Jesus, if she has a sister too, it'll be the return of the Auntychrist.

And one flew over the cuckoos' nest, or more accurately, a Chinook double-ended helicopter flew over Southsea Castle to honour veterans gathered there on Castle Field on Armed Forces Appreciation Day.

Incidentally, Jof has been made Little-manager at her work and is coming home tired every day after all that shouting at people. But the Big Manager and the Even Bigger Manager bought her a bottle to say well done. The label mentions fruit, will it count towards my 5-a-day?

Saturday-night-is-film-night was 'Lethal Weapon' with two guys out of Predator 2 and the guy from Expendables 3 and some very 1980s screaming girls with 1980s hair and clothes and attitudes to simple Class A drugs.

The Invention of Pambled Eggs

Now, Jof wanted a poached egg for breakfast and it's already a pain in the bum using the poacher, let alone for only 1 egg. So she said why don't you whip up the scrambled egg mix for the boy as usual and use 2 of the unused cup thingies to cook it in.

And it worked really well! It rises like a soufflé and is scrambled really but in a bowl shape. OK, so lots of you are saying nonono that's just Scroached eggs like Granny used to make in the bungalow in Barnstaple, but as far as we're concerned, Jof invented Pambled eggs.

And then I nearly had a fatal swatch error. Jof wanted to go fabric shopping (it's serious - she's bought a second sewing machine) and said it's either that or go supermarket shopping with Bud.

Now, what I wanted was Option C which is to remain naked at home in the real world, while actually being in the blocky make-believe world of Online Minecraft where I can have swordfights with other 11 year-olds and Zombie Electric Pigs and Reticulated Charge-creepers, and invade Sydney's Nether Portal, but it was not to be.

So I escaped torture of a most cruel and unusual nature, and even managed to sneak 17 chocolate items and a Minecraft toy into the trolley. Also, as we've invested so much in the bottle bank, haven't we got enough to afford a Gin Palace, or at least a house of ill repute? Later, I Skype-Minecrafted for ages but kept getting told off for shouting and screaming and babbling and hooting and yapping and jabbering at the screen. I just can't do it quietly. Are houses up and down the country parent no-go zones because of jabbering kids, or are others actually quiet or locked in their distant attic rooms? Answers in the comments section, please ....